


A Fool’s Hope

by webcricket



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 18:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10519326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: What do you get when you mix a traditional day of pranks with a wise-ass Winchester, a bumbling well-meaning angel, and a love-struck doubting reader? This fluffy April Fools’ Day drabble, that’s what!





	

“Y/N?” Castiel tarried at the threshold of your open door scanning the apparently occupant-less room.

Hair disheveled, sporting sleep rumpled pajamas, nestled on the floor amidst a comfy pile of pillows and blankets on the far side of the bed, lost in the pages of a book, you stifled a groan – the angel had developed a particular knack as of late for catching you at the worst times. Just last week he ran into you in the hall, or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, you had been stark naked, having forgotten a towel for the shower and not wanting to get your clothes wet, and engaged in a somewhat leisurely stroll to your room under the mistaken belief you had the bunker to yourself. For several days afterward, Cas maintained a curiously strong interest in the ceiling whenever he was in your presence. It might have been amusing if it weren’t so embarrassing – and also if you didn’t happen to be so head over heels in love with the angel. Combing fingers haphazardly through tangled locks to smooth them, you peeked over the mattress. “Hey Cas, what’s up?”

“Is this a bad time?” He took a tentative step further into the room.

“Uh, nope, it’s fine,” you lied, ducking to hide behind the bed again, biting your lip, snapping the cover of the book closed and exhibiting it for emphasis, “just doing some light reading.”

“Then you are busy. I’ll come back later,” his cadence carried a rushed quality of, was that, relief?

You quirked an eyebrow, this was new behavior - usually the angel had zero concept of reading between the lines to determine your actual meaning or mood, and even less understanding of the need for alone time with your books. “Cas?” Scrambling to your feet, you saw that your voice had halted his hasty exit.

Peering over his shoulder, his brow furrowed in a mien betwixt conflict and alarm.

“I’m really not doing anything important.” You circled the bed, tossing the book on your nightstand, perching on the edge of the mattress. You decided messy slept-in loungewear wasn’t nearly as mortifying as a bare-assed full body blush, and the angel’s odd behavior had your interest piqued.

He stiffly turned, gaze dropping to contemplate the floor the instant his expressive blue eyes flashed over yours. “Sam said I shouldn’t disturb you when you’re reading.”

“You didn’t know I was reading when you disturbed me.” You flaunted a toothy smile, hoping to distract him from your otherwise unkempt appearance. “And since I’ve already been disturbed, you might as well tell me why you’re here.”

“I-,” chest heaving in a deep breath, he lifted his focus to regard you. Resolve failing under your beaming scrutiny, his concentration flitted to the pictures and knick-knacks hung on your walls, “-uh. I-”

You watched with rapt attention as he wrung his hands and anxiously brushed the front of his coat. “Cas, you want to sit?” You patted the mattress in invitation.

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea.” He lurched forward, sinking onto the bed beside you. “Thank you.”

Genuinely concerned by his strange demeanor, you reached out to squeeze his knee, asking, “Is everything alright?”

He observed your soothing fingers on the curve of his knee with wide eyes. “It’s, yes, everything is alright. There was just something I wanted to talk to you about. To ask you.”

“Okay, so ask.” Giving his leg a final reassuring pat, you withdrew your touch, folding your hands in your lap.

Adams apple bobbing prominently, jaw tensing then relaxing, his eyes sought yours, the anxiety clouding his features steadily diminishing.

You squinted questioningly, an inquisitive smile curling up your mouth. Your stomach fluttered in hopeful anticipation of what he might say as those exquisite sapphire eyes lingered on you.

He gently grasped your hand, rubbing his thumb across your blanched knuckles. “Y/N, I-I wanted to know if you would go somewhere with me.”

Scrunching your nose in puzzlement, you glanced down at his calloused palm. “Um, yeah, sure Cas. You catch a case?”

“No, not hunting,” his throat cracked dryly, “I mean somewhere else. Out…on a date.”

Your heart ceased beating, a wave of elation and dizziness breaking over your body. And then the tiny voice of reason in your head chimed in to remind you of the day, April the first - April Fools’ Day. That miniscule spark of doubt at the sincerity of his intentions ignited into a massive firestorm of rage. You bolted up, trembling with barely contained anger, fingers tearing from Cas’ grip. “Fucking Dean Winchester! I’m going to kill that bastard! I can’t believe he’d stoop so low for a prank, knowing how I feel. He’s dead! I’m going to kill him with my bare hands!”

“Y/N, wait!” Cas trailed behind as you dashed, seething, into the hall.

“And you!” You spun on the angel, eyes brimming red and wet, wrath rapidly dissolving into pain, shaking him off as he attempted to clutch your arm. “I can’t believe you’d let him rope you into doing this!”

“Y/N, please listen, it’s not-”

“Hey sweetheart!” Dean’s jovial gruff voice echoed off the tile wall behind you, sparkling green eyes alight with a grin. “Sammy’s going for grub, you want in? Oh, uh, Cas, you take care of that thing we talked about?”

You went rigid. There it was, proof, straight from the horse’s mouth. A sob racked your frame, then another, and you did the only thing you could do in that moment - you fled.

Flummoxed, Dean waved in the direction of your departure and the echoed rapport of a slammed door, gaping as he motioned to speak.

Cas held up a silencing palm. “Not now, Dean.”

Ignoring the angel’s warning, Dean persisted, “What the hell did you say to her?”

“She thinks I’m making a fool of her.” The angel shrugged, a dejected look settling over his aspect.

“Oh, right, that’s today.” Dean nodded. “Reminds me I still owe Sam for that super glue incident last year.”

“What am I supposed to do now?”

“Give her some time to cool off, and I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Dean offered with a sympathetic grimace, “meanwhile, I’m gonna go ahead and leave before it gets nuclear in here.”

“That’s not very helpful, Dean,” Cas grumbled at the elder Winchester’s back as he disappeared around the corner.

Fists clenched in frustration at having caused you distress, the angel paced the hall outside your closed door until he could no longer hear the muffled sounds of sorrow emanating from within. Pausing in front of the door, he rapped the glossy painted surface with a knuckle. “Y/N? Please allow me to explain.”

“Go away!” your dismayed request preceded the harsh thud of a hardcover book striking the other side of the door.

He winced in anguish, leaning back against the door and sinking slowly to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I didn’t know today is a day for foolish games. Please believe me when I say that hurting you, it’s the last thing I wanted.”

Your ears pricked at his words, slipping from beneath the comforter, you draped it about your frame as you drifted towards the door to perceive his voice more clearly.

He continued, “I’ve been trying to find the right moment to talk to you for weeks, but it seems I have a penchant for bad timing.”

You reached the door, hand poised over the knob as you pressed a tear streaked cheek to wood, sniffling.

“It’s really a metaphor for my entire existence.” His head lolled back with a hollow thump, tone one of resignation, “I’m the fool for hoping someone like you would have any interest in me.”

You swung the door open and the startled angel rolled heavily backward onto the floor at your feet.

He accepted your outstretched arm to help him upright, standing so near that the sleeves of his trench coat tickled the backs of your hands.

“You meant what you said before?” You searched his ocean blue eyes, finding nothing but sincerity in their shining expanse.

He bobbed his scruffy chin in affirmation.

“And Dean didn’t put you up to this?”

“It’s true that Dean encouraged me to, as he says, make a move.” He shifted nervously. “But Y/N, I’ve loved you for a very long time.”

Grabbing the lapels of his coat to steady your suddenly swaying form, a smile bloomed on your lips, blossoming to crinkle your nose and eyes. Tugging him lower to rest his forehead to yours, you nuzzled his nose, eyes fluttering shut, warm breath caressing his cheek as you spoke, “Castiel, if you’re a fool to hope, then so am I.”

A small smile twitched his mouth as his fingers skimmed to the small of your back, drawing you against his vessel in a tender embrace. Fingers tangling in your hair, he captured your lips in a soft kiss.


End file.
